


Sex Isn't The Question

by Moorishflower



Category: Supernatural
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-20
Updated: 2010-06-20
Packaged: 2017-10-10 05:06:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/95798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moorishflower/pseuds/Moorishflower
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone knows that sex isn't the question - it's the answer. So why doesn't Gabriel?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sex Isn't The Question

  
Being human isn't all about sleeping, and eating, and hunting things. Every human ever born learns this the hard way, early on, earlier than they can remember.

But for someone who's been shoved into the world full-grown, with no user's guide and no frame of reference other than shitty daytime soap operas, it becomes an ordeal.

An angel recognizes that food and rest are necessary to humans to maintain bodily integrity, and they might also recognize, though perhaps distantly, that too little (or, conversely, too much) sleep results in feeling muzzy and disoriented, and the consumption of sustenance results in excretion…but it's like reading a passage in a technical manual. It doesn't necessarily mean anything beyond 'this is how you keep a human healthy.'

Fallen angels, on the other hand, must actually _learn_ these things, for themselves, and not simply for the sake of knowing.

~

Castiel isn't the only angel who gets promoted (although calling what happens a 'promotion' might be stretching it a little bit).

It takes Sam four months to claw himself out of Hell, and he spends most of that time terrified that he'll be trapped forever in the heat and the madness of it, with the angry screams of Michael and Lucifer ringing in his ears for the rest of eternity. But, eventually, he finds a way _up_, and Sam tears his way through sod and turf grass and drinks deeply of the cold, crisp, _Earthly_ air.

Predictably, someone is waiting for him.

It isn't Castiel. Sam imagines that Castiel has more important things to do than babysit the Winchesters, these days, and Sam might kind of miss the guy, his awkward earnestness and his thousand-mile stare, but he's willing to admit that Heaven probably takes precedence. No, it's someone else, wearing a soccer mom in Crocs and dangly earrings. The woman (_angel_) stares down at him for a long time.

Sam picks blades of grass off his tongue, and from between his teeth.

"You are unfit as a caretaker," the angel says, eventually. Sam shrugs. What else is he supposed to do? He just escaped from _Hell_, and now some Heavenly being is lecturing him on his babysitting qualifications? What the fuck? Seriously.

"However," she continues, lips pursed. "He has been given to you. The former-archangel Gabriel is now your responsibility."

And then she hauls Sam up by his sore arms, and frog marches him to a nearby motel.

~

Which is how Sam ends up babysitting a Fallen angel.

All things considered, his life could be worse. He could still be in Hell, for one. Lucifer could still be wearing him like a cheap suit, traipsing his ass all over the globe and wreaking havoc.

This way, just about everyone is happy. Dean has Lisa and Ben, Castiel has whatever angel job is keeping him busy in Heaven, and Sam has…

Well, Sam has Gabriel.

Who has absolutely no fucking idea how to be human.

~

"It hurts," Gabriel says, and Sam hardly thinks anything of it, because the first time Gabriel had stubbed his toe he'd bitched and moaned about it for an hour, and the first time he got a papercut he'd goddamn well _cried_. So Gabriel's idea of what hurts is vastly different compared to Sam's. Hearing Gabriel talk about how much he hurts is pretty par for the course, as is hearing him talk about how pissing and shitting has ruined food forever for him, and how sleeping is a huge waste of time, et cetera, et cetera.

Gabriel is a great big ball of misery and Sam gets fucking sick of it, but he's also company. He's the only company Sam is going to _ever_ have, at least in the foreseeable future, which is depressing on a level heretofore unknown to man, but the Winchesters have never been a happy bunch, so he deals.

"Where does it hurt?" Sam asks, and only realizes that he might sound impatient, or angry, when Gabriel shies – literally _shies_ \- away from him.

"It's nothing," Gabriel mutters. "I'll take care of it myself."

~

The next day, Gabriel is limping.

~

It takes Gabriel three days to man up enough to come to Sam for some actual help. Sam makes him sit on the bed while he carefully peels off Gabriel's boot (two sizes too large, because it's one of Sam's). His feet smell. Probably because Gabriel still doesn't really get the concept of 'wash more than just your hair and your junk,' but whatever.

What worries Sam is that there's blood seeping through one of his socks, and when he tries to pull the cloth away it _sticks_, and Gabriel makes a noise like someone beating a cat with a brick.

"Hold on," Sam says, and grabs his knife from his duffle, and then carefully cuts the sock away.

Sam can't hold in a hiss of sympathy.

"It's not supposed to look like that," Gabriel says faintly. Sam touches his swollen ankle, the dark and oozing puncture mark where something's obviously gone and bitten him. Probably some kind of spider, and Gabriel's brand spankin' new immune system has no idea how to handle it.

"Nope," Sam agrees, and goes for the first aid kit. He needs antibiotic ointment, some gloves, maybe even a needle, to drain the pus. At least they've caught it before it started to fester.

Gabriel cringes away as Sam dutifully squeezes the pus from the small crater, and then applies ointment and a heavy-duty band-aid. He doesn't say a word until Sam is finished.

"I hate this," he says, and Sam glances up. "I hate this body. I hate how it just _does_ things, without me telling it to. And I hate how much effort I have to put into it, just to keep it going."

Sam tilts his head. That's basically being human, he wants to say, but he doesn't think Gabriel would take it well.

Then Gabriel goes and says, "I wish I'd stayed dead."

And Sam punches him in the jaw.

Which, in hindsight, was a ballsy, but ultimately useless move.

~

"I'll get you some more ice," Sam says to Gabriel, sitting sullen in the passenger seat of their shitty Honda. "Do you want some chocolate? I can get you some chocolate, too."

"I don't want chocolate," Gabriel says peevishly.

Sam tries harder. "Well, what about some Skittles or something?"

And Gabriel turns to him, and says very slowly, very coldly, "I don't want anything, Sam. I'm tired. I'm in pain. There is absolutely nothing left on this planet that is worth living for, least of all _confectionery_."

Sam has to think about that for a while.

"There's always sex," he offers hesitantly, because it always seemed to make _Dean_ happy, and God knows Sam doesn't get enough of it.

Gabriel gives him the hairy eyeball, and then leans across the passenger seat and mashes their lips together.

Which, okay, wow. For a guy with literally thousands of years of experience, Gabriel is pretty bad at this. Maybe he's still getting used to the overflow of sensation, or…something.

Gabriel leans back again. His lips are already flushed darker, pinker. Sam's never noticed how pretty his mouth was before.

"Nothing," Gabriel repeats with relish, like thwarting Sam's attempt to cheer him up is giving him some kind of vindictive joy.

"Well, yeah," Sam agrees. "Because you're doing it wrong."

He grabs Gabriel's by the collar of his shirt and drags him back, seals their lips together in a way that's less angry, more…persuasive. He coaxes Gabriel's mouth open, licks inside across the ridges of teeth and gums, until Gabriel's slack with want under him, shuddering, exhaling brokenly. Sam gently tilts his head back, and Gabriel tries to follow after him, whimpering softly.

"Oh," he says. "Oh."

"I'm going to go get you some chocolate," Sam murmurs, and slowly lets go of Gabriel's collar.

Gabriel looks gobsmacked, and Sam laughs to himself all the way into the gas station.


End file.
